Almost Forever Read online

  ‘So, we meet at last. I feel as if I’ve known you for years because Paul has told us so much about you,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ I asked, surprised.

  ‘Really … He never shuts up about you. “Fran would like this”,’ he says, copying Paul’s pristine accent. When I laughed he carried on with his impersonation. ‘“Fran suggested I read this book; Fran loves waffles”.’

  ‘I really do love waffles,’ I said, giggling.

  ‘Well, good for you,’ he said, then added with a smirk, ‘At first we all assumed you were his girlfriend.’

  ‘Oh … no, no, definitely not!’

  ‘Yes, I know. He said that too,’ he explained and my heart dropped to the floor. ‘He told us you are in love with his little brother, Harry.’

  ‘Harry?’

  He nodded as I laughed nervously, his eyebrows raised in confusion by my reaction.

  ‘No, really, he and I would never be together,’ I swore, making my point by waving my open hand in mid-air pretending that such an option had never crossed my mind. Worried that I wasn’t pulling it off, I said, ‘I mean I totally love him – we grew up together but I’m more like a sister to him.’

  ‘Mhmmm,’ he said, touching my hand softly with his fingertips. The gesture gave me goose bumps but I acted as though I was unaffected by it, as if it was absolutely normal that someone I’d only just met would do that to me.

  ‘I’m wondering why Paul would say that you were his brother’s girlfriend. Don’t you think that’s odd?’

  ‘Maybe … but I have no idea – I haven’t really seen Paul in two years,’ I answered, lifting my shoulders and taking a sip of my drink. Why would Paul talk to a stranger about me? Why would he say that I’m Harry’s girlfriend?

  I took another sip mostly because it gave me something to do. It gave me the illusion I had a grip on my emotions.

  ‘So, why don’t you tell me something – true – about yourself?’

  ‘There’s not much to tell really,’ I said, smiling.

  I knew I was flirting and tried to stop myself, as if that was way beyond my allowed boundaries.

  ‘I’m studying for my A levels, I’ve spent the holidays in France, and I came here to watch a pirate movie with Harry. Well, that’s why I thought I was here,’ I added, trying to sound sophisticated.

  ‘Disappointed about finding yourself at a party?’

  ‘No, but if I knew it was going to be a party I would have changed,’ I said vaguely, pointing at my very casual attire.

  ‘You look great,’ he said, tugging playfully at my hair.

  ‘Thanks.’ I edged closer to him. ‘Your turn,’ I said. Maybe it was the vodka, maybe it was his charm, maybe it was the sexy vibe that emanated from him, but I was quite ready to push all those boundaries I’d been staying away from, until now. I curved my arm across the back of the bench and lowered my head gently onto it. Bastiaan looked down at my tanned legs in full view and I felt beautiful. I had to restrain the giggle that was rising from the bubbling excitement in my stomach.

  ‘I’ve just finished university – Business and Management – and I’ll start an MBA in London in October.’

  ‘Wow,’ I said, genuinely impressed. The idea he would be staying in the country was intriguing – almost as much as the fact that someone in his mid-twenties was spending time with me. We chatted about trivial stuff and there was no denying I was enjoying myself in his company.

  Idly, I started to wonder about the possibilities. For the first time in nine years, Paul had become just a little nagging ache somewhere deep inside my heart instead of the entire focal point of my existence. Maybe I had, finally, moved on. My smile was bittersweet at that thought so I decided that the best choice was to wash it all away with some more alcohol. When I reached lazily for my glass, I found it empty.

  ‘More. We need more,’ I chanted with a cute pout as I pushed myself up ready to go fetch a refill.

  Bastiaan said, ‘Let me.’ And getting up instead, aimed for the playroom. To my surprise he returned shortly after with the entire pitcher.

  ‘That’s certainly more,’ I said as he filled both glasses and then clinked mine with his.

  ‘Proost!’ he said. ‘That’s “cheers” in Dutch.’

  ‘Proost back then,’ I answered, looking at him directly.

  ‘We usually kiss the person in front of us when we toast – it’s a very ancient tradition,’ he said half-serious, and I felt as if I’d been skidding dangerously near those boundaries I’d been avoiding so very carefully.

  ‘Is that so?’ I asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Just a peck on the cheek, I suspect?’ I asked with a raise of one eyebrow.

  ‘No actually. We are a passionate nation, you know, and we always, always, always kiss on the mouth.’

  I felt a warm heat radiating from inside my belly at the idea of being kissed by this handsome charming stranger who seemed to be genuinely interested in me.

  ‘I’ll have to make sure I remember that for the next time we make a toast.’

  ‘I’ll make sure you don’t forget,’ he said, trailing his fingertips down my arm, which was still stretched over the bench. And just as I thought he was about to kiss me he instead lightened the conversation, cracking a funny joke that almost brought tears to my eyes and I was once again captured by his fascinating personality. It was dark, the movie was on, and when I looked around the only people I could see were sitting on cushions and rugs on the lawn near the patio. We were in a quiet, insulated bubble away from it all.

  We talked about everything and laughed at anything and drank the entire pitcher of vodka orange. I felt tipsy and giddy and I liked it. I liked how my thoughts swam in my sleepy brain, how my limbs felt loose and free, how my lips tingled every time Bastiaan’s gaze stopped on them. I liked the heat I felt in my stomach. I felt so alive, as if I’d been sleepwalking until now.

  He was so charming, genuinely interested in what I had to say, and very sweet. The bad-boy look was definitely just for show and I was starting to wonder what was really hiding under the rugged exterior he put up for the world to see. I couldn’t stop looking at the long bar that pierced his tongue. He constantly played with it, using his lips, catching the small metal ball at the end of it in between his front teeth and then pushing it back again.

  ‘Stop looking at my mouth like that, Fran,’ he whispered with an undertone of pain in his voice. When I looked at him, puzzled, he said with a smile, ‘It’s a very sexy look.’

  ‘Oh, sorry! It’s just your tongue piercing. It’s fascinating. I don’t know why I can’t stop looking at it.’ I giggled, unable to settle the electricity that I felt charging my skin. ‘What does it feel like?’ I asked shedding the last layer of inhibition I had left.

  Without a word, he reached for my hand and gently took my index finger, guiding it slowly into his parted lips. My breath went out in a gasp as he sucked and circled it with his tongue. The piercing tickled my skin, sending little waves of pleasure to my brain. Oh God, my stomach clenched and I felt on fire. I gently tugged my hand free and, without thinking, I brought my finger to my lips. In that moment, I wanted so desperately to be kissed I worried he could hear my thoughts. I worried everyone would hear my thoughts – they were so loud.

  He smiled, lowered his lips to my ear, and whispered my name as he pulled me closer. I raised my hands over his neck and grabbed his hair with my fingers. I needed to keep hold of something as my emotions were too strong for me to handle.

  ‘We could go to my room. I promise you there are more pleasant places for my piercing to be than your finger,’ he said.

  I was breathless and in that exact moment I realised how different my feelings for Paul were from the pure, basic lust I felt for Bastiaan. Maybe no one could ever take Paul’s place in my heart, but there was more in my body than just my heart to cater for.

  So, when Bastiaan leaned towards me, slowly, making his intention to kiss me absolutely cl
ear, I closed my eyes and let my hormones take the lead.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Paul’s voice shook me from the euphoric state I was in.

  ‘Paul!’ I said, looking at him with shock and jumping back from Bastiaan.

  ‘Hey, mate, what’s up?’ asked Bastiaan, turning to look at him, totally unfazed by the interruption.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Paul asked again, looking straight into my eyes.

  ‘None of your business,’ I replied, standing up to face him.

  His eyes were on fire. I tried to shy away from his dark gaze.

  ‘I’ve got this, buddy, she’s fine,’ said Bastiaan calmly.

  ‘She is not fine. She is seventeen. Come with me, Fran, right now,’ he ordered without taking his eyes off me and completely ignoring Bastiaan.

  ‘I’m happy where I am, thank you,’ I answered him.

  ‘Fran, let’s go.’ There was a warning note to his voice, so I just stuck my chin out, and decided that out of principle, I would stay exactly where I was. ‘I’m not coming with you, Paul,’ I said slowly, spelling out the words.

  ‘Oh, yes you are,’ he said tackling me into a fireman’s lift and walking off while I kicked and screamed.

  ‘Good luck!!’ shouted Bastiaan from the bench, and when I looked up from my embarrassing position over Paul’s shoulders, he was laughing.

  ‘Put me down! Paul, put me down,’ I hissed at him as we went through the study, which meant he managed to avoid the party.

  He went straight upstairs and, without a word, he walked towards his bedroom.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I demanded.

  ‘What am I doing? No, Fran, what are you doing?’ he asked, keeping his tone level and his voice calm as he slammed the door behind him and marched into his en suite.

  Then, not so gently, he put me down in the bathtub, slammed the door, and then went to stand against the wall, watching me with pursed lips. I wasn’t sure entirely what was going through his head or what his plan was.

  ‘Have you lost your mind?’ he asked as I stood there unable to decide what I should do.

  ‘I could ask you exactly the same question. I’m currently stood in your bathtub after you fireman-marched me up to your room!’ I answered, arms folded over my chest and fixing him with a pointed look.

  ‘Because I don’t want any interruptions,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘You don’t even know Bas,’ he added. ‘You don’t know that he used all the same charming moves he uses on dozens of girls and I’ve seen him in action with my own eyes.’

  ‘So? What does it matter to you? I wasn’t about to run off and expect him to marry me – quite the opposite,’ I respond in a clipped tone.

  ‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’ Paul rubbed a hand across his face and I noticed, for the first time, the stubble that covered his jaw. I realised I quite like it.

  ‘Gee, Paul, thanks – look at you, always the hero.’ The sarcasm dripped from my voice. ‘I didn’t need rescuing. I didn’t need your intervention, Paul. You’re leaving in two days. What then? Are you going to stalk me from the other side of the planet and fly in if you think I’m in danger of getting my pride bruised or my heart broken?’

  ‘No, I guess not.’ He looked abashed.

  ‘What then? What’s your plan? Keep me tucked away in, in a bathtub? To protect my heart and my virtue? This is laughable, Paul.’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t really have a plan when I took you away from Bas. I just couldn’t think properly. What if it was Harry walking in on you kissing someone else? Eh?’ he said, walking to me and stepping into the bath.

  ‘Harry? What’s your obsession with me and your brother? We are best friends, nothing more. Can you get that in your thick head and stop going around telling everyone I’m his girlfriend?’ I said, looking up at him, still not quite sure why we were both in the bathtub. There was so much showing in his blue stormy eyes. So many questions.

  ‘I just thought that you and Harry were together.’

  ‘No! How many times …’ I almost shouted out of exasperation. ‘We are not together, never were, and never will be!’

  The expression on his face was clearer than a thousand words. He really thought I was Harry’s girlfriend and the discovery that the opposite was true obviously came as a surprise. I swallowed and he looked at me with such regret in his eyes that I had to take a step back, suddenly in need of some distance from him. Regret was an emotion that went together with the sadness of having missed something, or someone. Had he missed me?

  I wobbled and I stepped back a little too close to the edge. Paul grabbed my arm to stop me from slipping and that was when the back of my leg connected with the metal tap, turning the water on. It was too late to do anything other than stare into Paul’s eyes as the cold water from the shower above my head started to flow, soaking through my hair and my clothes instantly. The shock was a blow to the system that made me shiver painfully hard and let out a loud shriek.

  Paul dived under the jet of water, leaning past me to close the tap, soaking himself in the process.

  ‘Idiot!’ I shouted, cursing myself and sputtering water out of my mouth, as I pushed my hair away from my face.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Paul said, looking at me and running his fingers through his now much shorter hair. I realised we were now very close, because Paul had not moved away from me after turning off the tap. I could feel his breath tickle my face and I could see every different streak of colour in his irises. My infatuation for him was as strong right now as it had been two years earlier, but my feelings were just so much sharper and more mature.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine, just a little cold,’ I answered breathlessly.

  He stretched his hand to grab one of the towels on the rail, breaking our connection as his body moved away from mine. He passed the towel to me, only his eyes didn’t leave mine.

  ‘Here,’ he said, his voice gruff, but I could feel that his anger was directed at himself much more than towards me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I answered, taking it from his hand. The silence between us was tense. He broke it with a chivalrous gesture. He stepped out and then turned to look at me.

  ‘Do you want a hand getting out?’ he asked, extending his hand, and I nodded and pressed the towel against my chest. When we were both out of the tub, I took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t really work but gave the illusion I was in control. When I met his eyes, I felt my heart letting go. In response, my hands shook as I dried myself.

  I was shivering but not just because of the wet clothes. Paul’s vicinity after such a long time away from him evoked a collection of emotions too strong to handle.

  ‘Fran, I’m really sorry for the way I acted. Please don’t be angry with me. I was just worried. I wanted to protect you, and ended up being the one who hurt you instead,’ he said in a tense voice. I believed him completely – he was always trying to fix things, to protect everyone, to stand up for what was right. How could I resent him for that? Before I could tell him that I wasn’t angry any more, he had me in his arms, pressed snugly against him.

  The contact with his skin made me shiver harder. He kissed my wet hair while running his hands over my bare shoulders, my arms.

  ‘Sorry, Fran,’ he murmured. ‘I just couldn’t let you kiss him. I had no right to stop you, but I just couldn’t let you do it …’ He trailed off.

  He kissed my forehead with a sigh and left his sentence unfinished.

  ‘If you are not involved with Harry and want to go to Bas, I won’t stop you,’ he sighed.

  ‘Really?’ I said, deciding to test my theory.

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘So, you don’t care if I go to him right now and have sex with him? You were only bothered if that meant I was cheating on your brother?’ I couldn’t help but poke at him. I wanted to see his cards on the table and I wasn’t going to stand and watch him leave without knowing the truth. Without knowing if he had feelings for me or not. There was something he wasn’t sayin
g and I’d be damned if he didn’t spit it all out before the day was over.

  ‘What?! Of course not – I care about you! Why do you think I stopped you in the first place?’

  ‘I don’t know why you stopped me but I think I deserve to know,’ I challenged him.

  I felt brave, bold, empowered by the softness in his voice, by the alcohol in my bloodstream. Right then, he let go of my arms and took a step away from me. When he moved I had a clear view of my reflection in the mirror and my heart sank. I looked like a mess. My eyes were red-rimmed; my hair was plastered to my forehead and dripping over my shoulders. My top was see-through and clinging to my skin. I was hardly in the best shape but Paul looked at me as if I was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

  ‘I have my reasons.’ His voice was hard and cold.

  ‘Why?’ I asked, taking a step towards him.

  ‘Because you are just a child,’ he said without looking at me.

  The words he spoke hurt me so deeply I felt my legs buckling under me. So that was it: he really just wanted to protect me.

  He turned back to me, watched me intensely. His gaze was dark and deep with unspoken need. That was not a brotherly look.

  Confused by the fact that his words didn’t match his actions, by the fact that he said one thing but his body spoke another, I tried to decide what to do next. My heart didn’t want to listen to reason; it just wanted him to admit he missed me.

  ‘I’m not Harry’s girl. I don’t care for Bas. I want to stay here, with you. Give me a reason not to go,’ I said, turning away from him. He was quiet, so I took a deep breath and placed my hand on the door handle. If he wasn’t going to tell me what he really felt for me, if he wasn’t going to be man enough to be truthful, he left me no other choice than to go and get over him once and for all.

  ‘Goodbye, Paul. Have a great life!’ I said, turning the handle.

  His voice stopped me when he spoke softly with a pining tone I hadn’t heard before. ‘If you stay now,’ Paul said, ‘I won’t be able to let you go, ever.’